


Second Wind

by GreenWoman



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-03
Updated: 2010-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 10:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenWoman/pseuds/GreenWoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanksgiving, after the Apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Wind

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks and apologies to Kripke and company, and Larry Joe Taylor, and proceeding under the assumption that forgiveness is easier to ask than permission.

There were devils in the sky  
Takin' angels through the walls  
As fate would have it, three would fly  
And one was bound to fall

There were rights &amp; there were wrongs  
We've been told a bunch of things ....

Second Wind ~ Larry Joe Taylor

~ ~ ~

The war was over, almost six months now. Won, but with enough losses that it didn't feel that way. When the dust had settled and the salting and burning was done, and Dean had healed enough to travel, Bobby figured it was time for a change.

Texas had been the right choice. The heat was good for Bobby's old bones, and Dean's slowly healing ones. The locals loved their trucks, and had a lot of respect and open checkbooks for folks who could fix them. It was a big piece of property and a sturdy old house with no memories, and once Bobby had set his wards, the rolling hills and wide open spaces seemed to ease Dean's tension.

Bobby thought of John often, these days.

His old property was probably dusted with snow by now. Here, the hot Texas sun burned through the thread-bare denim of Bobby's jeans and into his skin, warmed his beer too soon, and painted a hard-edged shadow beneath the old metal glider where he sat. He squinted into the late afternoon glare and watched as Dean slowly crossed the dooryard between the barn and the house.

Dean moved carefully, deliberately. Bobby could see him concentrating on where his weight was, and he left a small furrow in the dust behind his scuffing left sneaker. The boy still dragged that leg a bit, but he was walking, and Bobby thought he'd take the limp and Dean alive over what he and Sam had too long feared might be the alternative. Dean wiped his hands on a rag, then lifted it to his forehead and swiped his hair back … hair long enough now to brush his eyebrows, and hide the scars. Green eyes lifted to meet Bobby's, and lips tight with concentration, and pain, eased a bit and turned up slightly at the corners.

Thank god.

John would be ... good. Good with that.

Dean reached the porch steps and Bobby stood, setting his beer aside. The kid still needed help with the stairs. Bobby's hand rested on Dean's shoulder, then slid down to cup his elbow, touching him easily. Bobby touched Dean a lot these days and Dean allowed it, even leaned into it, sometimes. Together they climbed the steps to the porch and crossed the creaky boards, and Bobby eased Dean down into the glider. "Beer?"

A nod was his answer, and in a few minutes they were sitting side by side, quietly sipping from brown bottles damp with condensation.

The grumble of a car engine caught Bobby's attention. He chanced a glance at Dean, who hadn't heard ... his bad ear wouldn't catch the sound until the old Camaro was much closer. Bobby nodded toward the cloud of dust rising like smoke in the distance, and Dean saw it. Bobby shook his head.

"That yahoo brother of yours don't start treating that car right, I'm gonna repossess it," he growled.

Dean smiled.

The sun was lower now, and its fading light glowed gently on the horizon. In a few minutes, Sam would roar into the dooryard and spin the wheel and throw gravel into the sparse grass in front of Bobby's porch, and laugh. Groceries would be unloaded, and Sam would get dinner started and join them on the porch. They'd drink beer and watch the sun go down, then go inside and eat together, sitting in mismatched chairs around the wood table that Bobby and Sam had repaired.

The dark was comforting here; the moon huge and bright this time of year and this far south. Bobby thought of John again, and hoped he was at peace. His boys would sleep easy tonight, safe and at peace themselves.

And Bobby would, too.

~ ~ ~

Hounds are on your trail  
Clouds are rollin' in  
Set another sail  
Catch your second wind

~ 30 ~


End file.
